


midnight blues

by damntrobed



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, idk they're young and trying to figure the world out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damntrobed/pseuds/damntrobed
Summary: the world is a big, scary, confusing place, and it doesn't get any easier.troy and abed have to figure out how to navigate it somehow
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> **tw for: mentions of abuse, alcohol**  
> \--  
> fairly excited about this new one, i hope you all are as excited to read it as i am to write it!  
> be happy, be safe, be well. much love to you as always

Troy Barnes was the guy that everyone wanted to be in high school. Cool, good-looking, star of the football team since his sophomore year. A stellar athlete on the field and on the track, he was a contender for national championships both in football and track and field, racking up numerous accolades in both sports. 

On the outside, everything about Troy’s life seemed perfect. Parents who cheered him on at every game and meet, a huge group of friends, girls falling all over him. By his senior year, he had offers from damn near every D1 college in the country to play football. He was loud, and boisterous, and easy to get along with. Everyone loved him, and everyone wanted to be him. 

All eyes were on the infamous Troy Barnes.

And he fucking hated it.

—

Abed Nadir watched everything from the outside. A quiet, lanky kid, he managed to avoid being bullied and shoved into lockers purely on his quick wit alone. Kids thought his deadpan voice was peak comedy, his unfiltered thoughts causing a ruckus in classes. He was brutally honest and funny enough that people from every social group liked him, but not enough to actually include him. He skated by alone most of the time.

People didn’t know a lot about him other than party talk. Girls liked him, guys liked him, and he was willing to hook up with just about anyone. He was a good kisser, and even better in bed, according to practically everyone. 

Abed didn’t have many friends. The only person even remotely nice to him his junior year was a small freshman who ate his lunch in the library at the other end of the table Abed sat at. The only reason Abed knew that was because he also ate his lunch in the library, and one day he saw the kid on the verge of tears, looking over a textbook. 

“Can you help me?” he asked Abed shakily one day. Abed sat still for a moment before sliding his lunch and his textbook down to the kid’s end of the table.

“What are you doing?” Abed asked, craning his neck to look over the pages of the book.

“I’m _trying_ to read this chapter for my history class, because I have a test next period, but all the words are floating all over the page and I can’t understand any of it.” he said, sniffing hard. “And if I get another D, Coach isn’t going to let me practice anymore, so I have to do well, but I can’t make it make sense.”

“Would it help if I read it out loud to you?” Abed asked gently, turning the textbook around to face him. The boy shrugged. “I’m Abed.” he said, sticking his hand out.

“Troy.” the boy replied, extending his hand out to shake Abed’s while wiping his nose on the sleeve of his other arm. 

“We’re gonna get through this, Troy. You ready to listen?” Troy nodded. “Alright. In 1816…”

Troy ended up getting an 87 on the test. That Friday night he started his first varsity game, and never looked back.

—

Troy’s freshman year was only bearable because Abed helped him in his classes. During lunch, Abed would read out loud to him and go over any homework he had to have done, sometimes even bringing in his own copies from his freshman year when he took the same class. Eventually, Troy started inviting him over on the weekends to play video games and hang out. Pretty soon after that, they’re spending practically every day together. It was the first time Abed had ever hung out with anyone outside of school or parties that he happened to show up at, and he didn’t hate it.

On the last day of school, Troy meets Abed in the library at their normal table, and stands next to him. “Do you want to hang out the rest of the day?”

“Sure. Are we just going to go to your house?” Abed asks, shouldering his backpack as he stands and pushes his chair in. 

“Actually, I’d rather not go home.” Troy says, wringing his hands and wrists. “Could we just...go somewhere else?”

Abed looks at him, even though Troy won’t meet his eyes, and nods. “Sure. If you’ve got ten bucks on you we could go get something to eat.” 

Troy fishes into his pocket and pulls out a small black wallet, battered and beaten, and produces a crinkled five and two ones. “I’ve only got seven.” he says sadly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll spot you.” Abed says as he puts a hand on Troy’s shoulder. They walk the six blocks towards downtown, and Abed pulls him into a small burger shop. “What do you want to eat?”

Troy shrugs, and Abed furrows his brow slightly. He hasn’t known him long, but Troy is not this quiet. 

“What’ll it be?” the guy behind the counter asks as they step up to order.

“Two cheeseburgers, two large fries, and two cups for soda.” Abed says, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and handing the guy a debit card. 

“Abed-” Troy says, trying to hand him his seven dollars.

“It’s on me, Troy.” he says as he hands him the drink cups. “Mind grabbing me some orange soda?”

Troy nods and walks over to the soda machine as Abed waits for their food to come out on a tray, and eventually finds Troy sitting in a back corner booth. 

“Thanks.” Troy says quickly as he starts scarfing down his food, taking huge bites out of his burger. He eats like he hasn’t had a proper meal in a week, and Abed watches carefully as he finishes his burger in a matter of minutes, starting to work on his fries, dipping them into a large puddle of ketchup. 

“So, what do you want to do?” Abed asks, taking his time swallowing before he speaks.

Troy shrugs again. “I don’t really care, honestly. As long as I don’t have to go home.” 

Abed nods thoughtfully as he watches Troy finish his fries, and subtly pushes his portion towards Troy, giving a silent thank you to no one when Troy doesn’t hesitate to dig in. He listens as Troy tells him about something funny that happened with one of his teammates during the break early in the day, and about how his math teacher let them sit on their phones the entire class period.

When they leave, Troy refills his soda cup for a fourth time on their way out the door, and the sun is starting to set in the horizon. 

“Wanna go to the lake? We can just hang out there for a bit if you’re not ready to go home yet.” Abed suggests, wiping away the small beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“The one at the edge of the park?” Troy asks, and Abed nods. “Do you think anyone will be there?”

“No one’s ever been there when we’ve gone before. Don’t see why they would be now.” 

“Cool.” Troy smiles. “Race you?” he says before starting off into a sprint.

“Not fair!” Abed yells, but once he catches up his pace matches, if not outrunning Troy completely. When they reach the lake fifteen minutes later, they’re both laughing and panting, trying to catch their breath. Troy immediately drops his backpack on the edge of the dock and walks out to the end of it, taking his shoes off and sticking his legs into the water. Abed comes up slowly behind him and does the same, placing his shoes neatly behind him as he dips his feet in as well.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Troy asks after they’ve caught their breaths and sit quietly for a while. 

“Sure.” Abed says, leaning back on his hands. Troy is facing the setting sun, and Abed can tell by the way his shoulders drop and his hands move to wring his wrists something’s wrong.

“My parents are getting divorced.” Troy says quietly, and Abed sits back up completely, sliding over slightly to sit closer to Troy. “My dad told me a lot of it was my fault. Because my mom told him to lay off of me, but he won’t. He thinks that I told her to say those things.” 

“Troy…”

“I just don’t want to go home. They’ve been fighting so much lately, and there’s a lot of yelling, and-” Troy stops quickly. 

“And what?” Abed asks gently, reaching out carefully to put an arm around Troy’s shoulders.

“Nothing.” Troy shakes his head. “It’s just not fun to be at home right now. I don’t want to go home.” he says, his voice straining.

“You don’t have to. You can...stay with me.” Abed says, hoping that’s what Troy was looking for. 

“Thanks, Abed.” he says, turning quickly to wrap him in a tight hug, shocking Abed. They’ve never hugged before, always just stuck to their handshake. Abed slowly wraps his arms around Troy’s shoulders, giving him a small squeeze.

—

The entire summer became a routine. Troy would go work out in the morning with his teammates, meet Abed for lunch, and spend the rest of the day (and most nights) with him. He worked part time at the gym early in the week while Abed worked the morning shift at a video rental store, so by the time they both got off work they had the rest of the day to themselves. Troy only slept at his own house once a week, except for the week Abed didn’t hear from him at all. That was the week Troy’s dad had broken his phone, and he had to cash in all of the money he’d earned to get it fixed. 

But Troy never let on that anything was wrong. When he’d see Abed early in the afternoon he’d give him the same beaming smile, and an enthusiastic handshake, and hand him a bottle of water he’d taken from the fridge at work. Then they’d walk to the park or the lake, and spend the entire day talking, or swimming, or laying around in the grass. Every other weekend they’d go to a party, and Abed would carefully watch Troy out of the corner of his eye without getting too close.

“You’re going to start being pretty popular, Troy. We can still hang out, but it’s going to be better for you if when we’re at these parties you hang out with your teammates.” Abed told him early in the summer.

“Why? I’m friends with them just like I’m friends with you.” Troy replied, kicking a rock down the side of the street as they walked.

“I have...a bit of a different reputation than you and your teammates do.” Abed said, ignoring Troy’s look to elaborate. “We’ll still go back to my house afterwards, just while we’re there, try and hang out with your teammates, okay?”

“Fine.” Troy sighed.

He kept his word, most of the time. Every now and again he’d come find Abed and hand him drinks, saying that he couldn’t finish it or he felt too drunk to drink it. Every time, Abed would take it from him and find him a bottle of water and send him back over to his friends, telling him to find him when he was ready to go home. 

But Abed always watched. Made sure Troy was fitting in well with his team and socializing with the right groups. And at the end of the night Troy would give him a drunken smile and a thumbs up, and they’d walk back to Abed’s house, arms slung around each other for support.

The last night of summer before Troy’s sophomore year, the pair are sitting on an upstairs balcony alone, listening to a party rage downstairs and staring up at the sky. Troy knocks back the rest of his drink, setting his empty cup down beside him. “Hey Abed?”

“Hm?” Abed hums, looking away from the sky to look at Troy.

“You know how most guys feel about girls?” Troy asks, his words barely slurring together.

“Sure.” Abed replies, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do you feel that way about guys, too?” Abed looks at him, opening his mouth to speak, but Troy cuts him off. “I just...heard some stuff. I’m not judging you or anything.” he says simply.

Abed thinks as best as he can about how to answer that. “Sometimes. I like them both.”

“Do you feel that way about me?” Troy asks quietly, looking down at his feet swinging over the ledge. He’s doing that thing with his hands again, rubbing over his wrists. 

“Troy-”

“Because I feel that way about you.” Troy says quickly, stopping his legs and hands, going completely still.

Abed looks at him sadly. “Troy-” Before he can finish Troy is leaning in quickly and pressing his lips to Abed’s carefully, and he has to stop himself from deepening the kiss. He pulls back slowly, opening his eyes gently to see the scared look on Troy’s face. “Troy, we can’t.”

“Why not?” Troy asks, his eyes quickly filling with tears. “We don’t have to tell anyone. It can just be our secret, nobody has to know, and-”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Abed says quietly, pulling Troy into his chest as he breathes quickly, wiping at his eyes. “Troy, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Troy mumbles into his shirt.

“Don’t be sorry.” Abed says, rubbing his head. “You don’t have to be sorry.” 

“Why can’t we, Abed?” Troy asks again into Abed’s chest.

“I don’t want to ruin your future.” Abed says after a minute, rubbing circles into Troy’s back. “And if we did, I’d have to leave in a year. It wouldn’t last.”

“I don’t care.” Troy sniffs, pulling out of Abed’s embrace. “I don’t care about any of that. I _really_ like you, Abed.”

“I know.” Abed says, reaching up to touch the side of Troy’s face, sighing as Troy drops his cheek into his palm. “I like you, too.” he whispers.

“So let’s do it.” Troy says.

Abed looks at him for another minute before pulling his hand back and looking at his watch. “It’s getting late. Let’s get you home.” he says, pushing himself off the ground and reaching a hand out to help Troy up. 

They walk to Troy’s house in silence, and they stand at the end of his driveway. Troy stares at the living room window, covered by drapes, but the light from the lamp illuminates two shadows in the middle of the room, clearly in an argument. If Abed strains hard enough, he can barely hear them yelling. He jumps as he sees the taller figure extend out an arm and the smaller figure curls over, their arms coming up to their head. But Troy just barely flinches, his eyes not moving from the figures in the window, unblinking. Abed looks at him in horror. “Troy, why didn’t you-”

“I’ll just go in through my window. They probably don’t even know I was gone. See you later, Abed.” Troy says, his voice flat. Before he walks away, Abed grabs his arm and pulls him tight into his chest, squeezing as hard as he can. He sighs when he feels Troy eventually wrap his arms around his waist. Abed leans down and kisses Troy softly, looking at him as he pulls away, trying to convey everything he wants to say with just his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Promise.” Troy says.

Abed watches helplessly as Troy walks down the driveway, crouching when he nears the front of the house and going around the side of it, crawling up a tree before reaching out by the branch to a window, sliding the pane up and pulling himself inside. 

Abed stays up all night once he gets home.

_11:37PM_ **_To: Troy_** _\- everything okay?_

_5:14AM_ **_From: Troy_** _\- yeah. thanks._

—

They get through that school year one week at a time. For Troy's birthday, Abed buys him a sweatshirt with a small A sewn onto the inside of the cuff on the right sleeve. For Abed's birthday, Troy buys him a key chain with a small poster of _The_ _Empire Strikes Back_ , a tiny T etched into the base. Troy spends most of his nights at Abed’s house after he finishes practices for football, and Abed goes to all of his games, making sure he sits nowhere near Troy’s parents. Hearing them yell and cheer for Troy makes him sick to his stomach, knowing what he knows. 

Troy’s parents always assumed he was staying at a teammate’s house if he didn’t come home. Not that they noticed most times, they were too busy fighting. Troy would smile politely for pictures with them after his game and ignore the way his dad gripped his shoulder way too tight, or the way his mom would stand as close as she could to Troy without being in reach of his dad. Afterwards he’d tell them quick goodbyes and go find Abed, waiting for him at the far end of the field, and walk home with him. 

Most nights, Troy ends up crying quietly while Abed holds him, the television abandoned in the background. Then he wakes up early in the morning to go work out, kissing Abed gently before he crawls out of his window, careful to not run into Abed’s own dad going to work. 

Everything is working, even if it’s not perfect, and it’s enough for Troy to get through. Enough hope to hold onto through all the shit.

And then it’s not. 

“We have to end this.” Abed says quietly, a week before his graduation. 

“What?” Troy asks, taking a step backwards from Abed under the bleachers. 

“Troy, I told you last summer-”

“I didn’t think you’d meant it.” Troy says, and Abed looks away before he sees the tears spill over Troy’s eyes. “I love you.” 

And then Abed has a choice. Lie, and make it easier for Troy to hate him and let him go. Or tell the truth, and make it harder for the both of them. “But I don’t love _you_.”

Troy stares at him, shaking his head, tears falling freely. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” It’s not.

“No it’s not.” Troy says again. He wipes his nose and uses the palm of his hand to dry his eyes. “You told me you did.” 

“I lied.” Abed says quietly, and every word out of his mouth tastes foul and makes his stomach churn.

Of course it wasn’t a lie. How could it be? But this is what Troy needs. Troy needs to forget about him, and focus on football, and do everything he was meant to do, to succeed at. And Abed can’t stand in his way any longer.

“I don’t believe you.” Troy whispers.

“You don’t have to.” Abed says, his voice straining, his throat dry. He’s choking back tears like it’s bile. “Goodbye, Troy.” and he doesn’t stay another second after that, turning quickly on his heel and starting his way back home. He can’t look at Troy cry, or look at the way Troy tries to reach for his hand but misses. He can’t. 

Troy tries to talk to him for two weeks after that, but Abed ignores every message, every call, every text. It’s too hard. Eventually it stops and Abed doesn’t hear from him at all.

Until two years later.

—

_2:37AM_ **_From: Troy_** _\- it’s an emergency._

Abed calls him right away, his heart racing and palms sweating. “Troy?” 

“I can’t fucking do it, Abed.” Troy says over the phone, music blaring in the background, his words slurring together sloppily. 

“Troy, what’s going on?”

“It’s too much goddamn pressure!” Troy yells, and Abed hears something crash in the background.

“Where are you, Troy?” The line stays quiet, and eventually Troy starts crying, and the music gets slightly fainter as Abed hears a door close. “Troy, where are you?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Troy mutters, his breath shaky. “There’s a million fucking people, calling me and emailing me, and asking me to make a decision. Asking me what I’m going to do, what offer I’m going to take. My parents are fucking screaming at me every fucking night to make a goddamn decision, and I _can’t fucking do it_.” Troy cries, and everything in Abed’s chest tightens and breaks. “And I can’t keep fucking girls and acting like I like it, and I can’t keep playing football and acting like I like it, and I can’t keep going home and pretending everything is fucking fine because it’s _not_ , and I just can’t fucking do it, Abed.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Abed doesn’t know what he means by _this_ , but he hopes it’s the right word for Troy to hear.

“I _do_ , though. I don’t get a choice because _this_ is what my life is supposed to be like. _This_ is what I have to do.”

“No, you don’t.”

Troy swallows and lets out a shaky sob. “Other people get to choose their life, but _I_ have to live the life that was _chosen_ for me. That was always the deal.”


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **tw for mentions of abuse, alcohol, vomiting, and injury**  
> *also some vague nsfw content*  
> significantly less tw's after this chapter i promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be happy, be safe, be well. much love to you

“You’re a fucking dick.” she cries as she starts throwing things at Troy. He misses the pen and the notebook and the pillow, but the sneaker connects with his chest with a light thud as he tries to catch it. He ignores the way it touches the edge of a bruise that’s only just begun healing and drops it to the floor.

“Can we just talk about this, please? And will you stop throwing shit at me?” Troy sighs, catching a small book in one hand and tossing it on the bed. The girl plops down in a chair by her desk, shaking her head and letting tears roll down her face.

“I _saw_ you go back into that bedroom with someone.” she says, looking at him with a mean snark, not wiping her eyes. “And if you won’t tell me who it was, then we’re done.”

“I didn’t _do_ anything.” Troy rubs his face, trying to block out that night. Tries to ignore the way his hands were running over Troy’s body and the way his nails raked his back. 

“There’s scratches all over your back, Troy, I’m not an idiot!” she yells, taking her pencil pouch and hurling it at him, but he just leans to the side to avoid it making contact with his head.

“I’ve been at football practice, you know how rough it can get.” Troy lies through his teeth. “Look, I want to be with _you_ , no one else.” That lie makes him want to spill his lunch everywhere. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Troy.” the girl sighs, covering her face with her hands.

“Come on-”

“Leave!” she yells at him, and Troy just sucks in his cheeks and throws his backpack over his shoulder as he leaves, slamming the front door on his way out.

He takes the long way back home, meaning he goes the complete opposite way of his house towards downtown before turning around and making the big loop to his house. When he arrives, he sneaks up the side of the house to the tree that meets his window, and carefully slides the pane open. He tosses his backpack quietly onto the bed, and holds his breath as he pulls himself in feet first, and he’s almost home free until he knocks over a metal water bottle that clangs against his bookcase on the way to the floor, and he mutters a curse under his breath.

“Troy Barnes, that better not be you sneaking back into this fucking house!” His dad yells, and Troy quickly slides the window shut as his father’s pounding feet approach his bedroom, throwing the door open. 

“How’s it going, Dad?” Troy says, voice dripping in sarcasm, trying not to let the fear in his voice bubble over as his dad moves towards him and backs him back against the bookcase under his window. 

“I have half a mind to put bars on that window and take that door off it’s hinges.” his father says, getting close to Troy’s face. Troy just looks at him, his jaw set, not daring to say anything. They face off in silence for longer than Troy feels comfortable doing before his dad pivots on his heel and slams Troy’s bedroom door behind him, knocking a picture off Troy’s wall and breaking the frame. Troy sighs as he falls onto his bed, wincing slightly as he touches his chest. He turns his head to look at the digital clock on his television, held together now by duck tape around it’s edges. 12:19 AM.

“Happy 18th birthday to me.” he whispers to himself, not even bothering to get undressed before falling into a fitless nights rest. 

—

A little over six months after Abed left him stranded under the bleachers, Troy celebrates his 17th birthday with his mother, in her small apartment on the other side of town. He smiles politely and gives her a kiss on the forehead when she says “I know we don’t celebrate birthdays, but I got you a little something. You just haven’t seemed like yourself the last few months.”

Tickets to a Denver Broncos game. 50 yard line, three rows back from the sideline. Perfect seats. He wraps her in his arms and hugs her tightly, trying not to cry. He holds in a wince as she reaches around to rub at his back since she can’t reach his neck anymore, Troy having shot up six inches since the summer alone, and the marks on his back scream at him. 

He takes one of his friends from the football team with him that he finds the least annoying to hang out with, and for one day he forgets about all the bad things. About his dad, and about the mound of offers sitting on his desk in his bedroom, and about Abed. 

He misses Abed more than he wants to admit. Sleeping in his own bed is brutal, and scary, and restless. He only sleeps well when he sneaks out to the dock on the lake and balls a hoodie up under his head. 

To distract himself from Abed, he finds temporary things to keep his brain occupied. His teammates hook him up with girls from every direction, and soon he has his pick of girlfriends. And he has to pick, because how can the star quarterback _not_ be dating a hot girl from the cheerleading squad, or the swim team, or the student president. 

The sex is meaningless. He can hardly look at the girls, and the things they want him to say do nothing for him. He must fake it pretty well though, because the rumors going around but how good he is in bed have no trouble getting back to him.

He risks it one night at a party, when he and a boy from the soccer team spend the entire night brushing sides and exchanging glances. Troy catches his eye as he nods at a bedroom at the end of the hall, and Troy makes sure no one’s watching when he finishes his drink quickly and goes into the bedroom behind him, locking the door and pressing him up against the wall. It’s hot, and a blur, and for the first time ever Troy _enjoys_ it. He feels the way the boy grips his biceps so hard it leaves marks, and the way he wraps his legs around Troy and moans out his name, and before Troy knows it he’s gasping out a _fuck_ as he collapses next to the kid. The next day at school Troy tries to say hi, but the kid won’t look at Troy.

He keeps a girlfriend most of the time, but every now and again at parties he’ll sneak off into a back room to suck some other guy’s dick or have sex, and it’s always a silent agreement that they don’t speak again, that this stays between them. 

It kills Troy. He wants nothing more than to just call Abed every night and ask for him back. To come rescue him from the hell he’s living through. To make everything feel okay again, just for a little bit. But he hasn’t heard from or seen a peep of Abed in a year at this point, and he’s nowhere to be found. It’s like he disappeared into thin air. 

—

When Troy wakes up in the morning, chest still aching inside and out, he’s smacked in the face with so many emails from colleges wishing him happy birthday it makes his head spin. His dad pokes his head in around noon after the mailman stops by and drops a bag of letters on his floor without another word, and Troy wants to puke. 

He has five months to sign somewhere before he graduates. Probably less. Or else colleges are going to start pulling their offers, and he’ll be shit out of luck. He’s already pushing it with as bad as his grades are, but multiple coaches have told him if he can skate out of high school with at least a 2.5 they can make it work. Get him into tutoring programs with the college and make sure he maintains a 2.0 to keep playing. 

Every time he sits down to look over the proposals and see what they all have to offer, he gets a splitting headache, and he feels like that small freshman who couldn’t read his history textbook because the words float all over the page. He falls back into the cycle of wishing Abed would read to him and wishing Abed would _be here_ with him, and then he starts crying and it makes his headache worse, and then he crawls under his covers and tries to sleep, and when he can’t he sneaks out and falls asleep at the lake, and the cycle repeats itself over every few days. 

He thought maybe by some miracle when he turned 18 the headaches would stop and he would be able to make a decision, but he’s sitting here at his desk, at 8:30 in the morning, and he can feel it creeping up again, and he’s sick of it. He groans as he reaches into a drawer in his desk and pulls out a bottle of migraine medication and takes two of them, resting his head in the palms of his hands. 

The silence would be comforting if his head wasn’t ringing, but he’s snapped out of his daze by a text from his teammate. 

_8:41AM_ **_To: Troy_** _\- party tonight. Jared’s house. 9:30. booze on us for your birthday._

A little party couldn’t hurt. 

—

Troy goes out every weekend after that. It gives him a brief respit from everything caving in on him, and he thinks his system is working fine. He plays drinking games with his buddies and his teammates, every couple weekends he’ll find himself in a dark room with another guy running his hands all over him, and it hurts a bit less when his dad pushes him around when he sneaks back home in the early hours of the morning. 

It’s fine. Until the week before his signing day deadline in April. He’s in the middle of a party when he gets a notification on his phone. _One Week from Today - Signing Day_.

And his delicate world is shattered. 

_2:37AM_ **_From: Troy_** _\- it’s an emergency._

The phone rings right away in his hand, and he hits the accept button slowly. “Troy?” 

“I can’t fucking do it, Abed.” Troy says over the phone, setting his drink down on a random table and sticking his other hand over his open ear. The music is screaming in his head and it’s all too loud. He wanders the halls frantically, trying to find an open room. 

“Troy, what’s going on?”

“It’s too much goddamn pressure!” Troy yells over the noise, and his hip slams against a small table holding a vase, crashing it to the ground. He winces and finds a small room at the end of a hallway, shouldering the door open. 

“Where are you, Troy?” Troy doesn’t say anything, but he can feel himself start crying as he closes the door and looks around the room that looks like an office, and he sits in the back corner, furthest away from the door, his hand still pressed over his ear. “Troy, where are you?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Troy mutters, his breath shaky. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus on Abed’s voice. “There’s a million fucking people, calling me and emailing me, and asking me to make a decision. Asking me what I’m going to do, what offer I’m going to take. My parents are fucking screaming at me every fucking night to make a goddamn decision, and I _can’t fucking do it_.” Troy cries, and his chest is on fire. Everything inside of him burns, and he pulls his knees into his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible. “And I can’t keep fucking girls and acting like I like it, and I can’t keep playing football and acting like I like it, and I can’t keep going home and pretending everything is fucking fine because it’s _not_ , and I just can’t fucking do it, Abed.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Abed says carefully over the other end of the phone. 

“I _do_ , though. I don’t get a choice because _this_ is what my life is supposed to be like. _This_ is what I have to do.” Troy heaves, and it hits him all at once how much he wants to just disappear.

“No, you don’t.” Abed says, his voice soft. 

Troy swallows and lets out a shaky sob. “Other people get to choose their life, but _I_ have to live the life that was _chosen_ for me. That was always the deal.”

“Where are you, Troy?” Abed asks, and Troy ignores the urgency in his tone. 

“I’m fine.” Troy says quietly, his voice shaking. “I miss you.” he whispers, before hanging the phone up. 

—

_3:33AM_ **_To: Troy_** _\- come over. please._

_3:59AM_ **_To: Troy_** _\- troy? at least let me know when you get home. okay?_

_4:18AM_ **_To: Troy_** _\- i’m coming to yours._

Abed sneaks quietly out of his back door and sprints to Troy’s house, only to see him on the ground by the tree he climbs up to his room, holding his ankle. He’s crying quietly, curled over by the trunk of the tree. 

“Troy? Troy!” Abed hisses, creeping up towards Troy and putting his hands on his shoulders. 

“It hurts, it hurts so fucking bad, it fucking hurts.” Troy wails, reaching wildly for Abed. “Fuck, Abed, is that you?” 

“Yeah, it’s me, okay, come on you have to stand up we have to get you some help.” Abed says, trying to sit Troy up, careful not to move his ankle. Abed barely takes a look at it and feels sick to his stomach. “Troy how did you get back here on that?”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Troy moans before leaning to the side, heaving into the grass. His cries get thicker and Abed tries to rub his back, holding on to his bicep.

“Let’s go, come on.” Abed says when he’s finished, hoisting Troy up from under his arms and wrapping his arm securely around his waist, helping him hop to the end of the driveway. “I’m gonna call a cab, okay? You have to get that looked at.” 

“They’re gonna see.” Troy moans, leaning heavily into Abed’s side. “They’re gonna see.”

“See what?” Abed asks, setting him down on the curb as he pulls his phone out. 

“My chest. And my back. Abed this fucking _hurts_.” Troy whines, reaching for his ankle, dropping his head to his knees. 

Abed doesn’t have time to think as he calls a number for a cab and situates Troy in the backseat a few minutes later, getting him to the emergency room. The cabbie moves swiftly and helps Abed get Troy inside the waiting room of the emergency room, and Abed puts a wad of cash in his hand for the trouble. When he gets inside he sits Troy down and hurries to the front desk.

“I think my friend broke his ankle and he’s really in a lot of pain, can we get him back there now?” Abed pleads with the lady behind the plexiglass barrier.

“Okay sweetheart, it’s okay, don’t panic. These things happen all of the time, it’s okay.” the lady says in a soothing tone. She reaches out to touch Abed’s hand, and he feels like he’s being sucked back into reality. He didn’t realize how quickly he was breathing. “Are you his primary contact?”

“No...no I’m just his-” Abed turns his head to look at Troy, who’s shoulders are racking with sobs. “His friend. Look he’s really in a lot of pain, can you just take him back?”

“We’re working on it, honey, can you get a hold of his primary contact?” 

Abed nods, and walks back over to Troy, sitting as close as he can. “Troy? Troy I have to call someone for you.”

“Please don’t call my dad, he’s gonna fucking kill me, Abed.” Troy whimpers. “He’s going to fucking kill me.”

“I won’t call your dad. Can I call your mom?” Abed asks, reaching into Troy’s pocket and pulling out his phone. 

“She’s gonna be so upset, fuck.” Troy cries. “It was an accident.” he says quietly, his head falling into Abed’s chest. “It was an accident.” he repeats, over and over and over again.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’ll be okay, Troy.” Abed whispers, and against his better judgment, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the top of Troy’s head. If Troy feels it, he doesn’t do anything, just continues to cry into Abed’s shirt. Abed scrolls through Troy’s contacts until he finds his mom, and he clears his throat as the line rings. “Ms. Barnes? Hi. Yes it’s Abed. I know, it’s been a while. Listen, Ms. Barnes...Troy got really hurt. We’re at the E.R. right now. Do you think you could come down here? No, I don’t know what happened, I was on the phone with him, and something sounded wrong, and then I went to find him and he was hurt. Ten minutes? Okay, I’ll let him know. Thanks, Ms. Barnes.”

“Is she coming?” Troy whimpers.

“Yeah, buddy, she’s coming. She’ll be here soon.”

“Is she mad?” Troy looks up at him with teary eyes, his face contorted in pain.

“No, no she’s not mad, Troy.” Abed says as he thumbs away the tears under Troy’s eyes. “She’s just worried, that’s all.”

“My dad’s going to fucking kill me when he finds out.” Troy says, moving quickly then yelping in pain. 

“Hey hey hey, stop moving, Troy, you’re okay. Look, they’re going to take you back as soon as your mom gets here, I promise, and then it’ll stop hurting.”

“Troy? Where’s my baby?” Ms. Barnes comes rushing into the E.R. a few minutes later, heading straight for Troy and Abed. “Oh, baby, what did you do?” she asks sadly, cupping his face.

“It was an accident, Mom. I promise.” Troy cries, reaching out to hold her wrist with one hand, the other searching frantically for Abed’s. He cautiously laces their fingers together.

“Baby, have you been drinking?” she asks, her voice dripping in disappointment. 

“I’m sorry, Mom.” Troy says, and he starts crying again as she wipes at the tears on his face. The nurses come over and hand Ms. Barnes a stack of paperwork to fill out as they start to put him in a wheelchair, forcing Troy to let go of Abed’s hand. He watches helplessly as they take him through the swinging double doors, and then it’s just him and Ms. Barnes.

“Abed, honey.” she turns around and pulls him into a tight hug, squeezing him so hard he can’t get his arms up to hug her back. “Thank you for looking out for my baby boy.”

“Yeah, of course, Ms. Barnes.” Abed says sheepishly as she pulls away, holding him at an arm’s length.

“He was so happy when he was around you. He took your graduating really hard.” she says, a sad smile on her face.

“Yeah. It was hard for me, too.” Abed replies, looking down at his feet. 

“I’ll tell him to speak to you when we know what’s wrong, okay?” Ms. Barnes says, taking his hands in her own. Abed nods. “You be safe, baby, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Abed says quietly, and Ms. Barnes gives his hands a squeeze before going to the front desk and disappearing through the doors.

—

_10:22AM_ **_From: Troy_** _\- broken ankle. dislocated shoulder. my dad is fucking pissed._

_10:23AM_ **_To: Troy_** _\- are you okay?_

_10:25AM_ **_From: Troy_** _\- honestly? i’m feeling better than i have in a really long time._

_10:27AM_ **_From: Troy_** _\- thanks for taking care of me._

_10:28AM_ **_To: Troy_** _\- of course. always._

—

Abed waits to see if there’s any word about Troy’s signing day for the next week and a half. April was always a busy month for athletes. He sees swimmers and basketball players and baseball players, athletes from every sport in the local paper, all signing to play in college.

He doesn’t hear anything about Troy.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **mm nsfw-ish stuff i think that's it**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had (definitely not still having) a mini mental breakdown but it's totally fine i'm back now (i think) anyways i'm sorry for the long wait  
> be happy, be safe, be well  
> so much love

When August rolls around, Mr. Nadir can’t take it anymore. 

“You have to get out. Do something. You’ve done nothing but sit at home for two years, you barely help with the restaurant. You have to go.” he bursts one night, as Abed talks about his hatred of the Star Wars prequels for what seems like the millionth time. 

Abed stops, hands freezing under the table from where he was making movements and motions. His dad didn’t like to see them flying around so much. “Go...where?”

“Somewhere. Anywhere.” Gobi sighs. “Maybe go to school. Greendale Community College. Get an education. And then you can come back and help me run the restaurant.” 

Abed drops his chin down so he’s staring at his plate. He hasn’t touched his food. They were all touching when his dad set it down in front of him, and it made his nose crinkle in disgust. “Why can’t I just help now?” 

Gobi puts his head in his hands. “If you get a degree it will help more than you sitting at the cash register all day. You can help with the actual business of the restaurant. That’s what we need.” 

“But-”

“No. No but’s. Not this time. I’m enrolling you, putting you in a dorm. You need this.” 

Abed sits silently as his dad keeps talking, picking up Abed’s full plate of food and chastising him for not being grateful for his meal. His voice gets farther and farther away as he talks about putting him in a dorm room and making him be his own man, and Abed begrudgingly accepts his fate. 

He goes to his bedroom to start packing, carefully organizing everything into neat boxes, and as he’s finishing putting his movies into the last box, he smiles sadly. 

He picks up the small keychain and runs his thumb over the small T etched in the bottom corner. When he flips it over, he drags his thumb over the tiny poster. The first night Troy accidentally stayed the night in his bedroom they watched _The Empire Strikes Back_ and Troy fell asleep on Abed’s chest, clutching the blankets around them while Abed held him securely in his arms. They watched it once a week. It was their favorite movie.

He pulls his keys out of his pocket and works the rings together, sliding the cool metal around in his thumbs until it settles inside of the main ring. He holds them up to admire it one last time, lined up neatly next to the keys to the house, the restaurant, and the barely-function car he bought off an old friend a month ago. He stuffs the keys back into his pocket and keeps packing until the sun starts to come up again.

The next week, Gobi hands him the last box from his car in the middle of his empty dorm room, cluttered by bins and a dirty orange couch pushed against the opposite wall of the bunk bed, and leaves him alone, closing the door quietly behind him. 

After taking a moment to soak in his new reality, he sets to work numb of any emotion, putting his room together. He perches a small television on top of his DVD and VCR player, sets his Xbox up next to it, and then starts stacking his movies. He first organizes them in alphabetical order, but then changes his mind halfway through and starts over, deciding to organize it based on his rating of them. That would be much easier in the future to navigate than alphabetically. It takes him just over an hour to put those away before he even thinks about working on the rest of the room. He spends the rest of the day putting away his clothes, throwing sheets on the bunk bed (Deciding which one to sleep on was easy. Top bunk was clearly superior), and even manages to give a guy at the end of the hall $40 for his mini fridge.

It’s close to three in the morning when Abed finishes putting everything together, and he sits on the corduroy couch, a heavy weight still resting on his chest and shoulders. He watches television for an hour before forcing himself to get into bed, remembering he has a marketing class in the morning. 

He’d like to say he slept well, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t sleep at all.

—

“115, 115, where the _fuck_ is room 115?” Troy mutters to himself as he wanders through the halls, his backpack slung over his right shoulder, having shrugged it off of his left shoulder, still sore from the summer. He sighs to himself in relief when he spots the room number on the wall a couple doors down, falling in behind a blonde girl desperately trying to ignore a guy who’s hitting on her. He shakes his head as he finds a seat on the near wall close to the back. 

He was never good with Spanish. He needed an elective his junior year and would have failed it if he hadn’t had an on-again-off-again hook-up relationship with the senior TA, a tall boy from the baseball team who would give him A’s on all of his homework and bump his grades up on exams. 

Now he found himself in another Spanish class, except this time he couldn’t use sex to get him the grades. He thought maybe he could, if the professor was attractive enough, but this guy was loud and boisterous and had a wife who he couldn’t keep around, based on the amount of complaining he was doing already because of her. He’s rapidly scanning the room for someone to talk to after class and win over with his grade-A charm, and his breath stops.

Because sitting one row back in the center of the classroom is a lanky boy with hair that curls up by his ears, whipping a pencil back and forth between his thumb and forefinger, his arms covered by a familiar red zip-up jacket that’s slightly short on his wrists. He knows it’s familiar because he gave it to him when he told Troy someone puked on his jacket at a party and he handed it to him on their walk back to his house, and he asked Troy if he could keep it. Of course Troy said yes.

He didn’t think he’d ever see Abed again after that night at the hospital.

—

Abed sees him out of the corner of his eye when he walks in the room. His body goes still for a fraction of a second before he remembers to breathe again, and picks up his pencil to flip it rapidly between his fingers. 

Troy isn’t supposed to be here. Troy is supposed to be playing football somewhere, hanging out with a group of guys who plan on hitting the bars after their practice is over. He’s supposed to be far, _far_ away from this place, and his parents, and everything he hated. _So why is he here?_

He’s suddenly very aware of the fact that he’s wearing Troy’s old jacket, one he took from him in the middle of the summer because someone thought it’d be a good idea to puke in the coat closet at some house party they went to. Troy told him to keep it when he asked, and told him he looked good in it. Abed refuses to turn his head to get a good look at him, even though he can feel Troy’s eyes staring a hole into the back of his head, afraid that doing so will unravel the delicate little world he had created for Troy in his head.

He barely listens to the professor talk the entire class, a short man with a brazen personality who gets too close to people and talks too loudly for Abed’s liking. He ignores the introductory lesson, and ignores the homework assignment for the night, and ignores the way the rest of the class is speaking mechanically back to the professor. 

At the end of the class, he sits still for a minute before he moves to get his things, trying to let everyone else leave so he doesn’t run into Troy. He puts his things in his messenger bag neatly, and slides his pencil in carefully to the slot where it gets held, and makes sure everything is in order before he flips the cover of it over. The room is quiet, the professor long gone now, and Abed thinks he’s home free, until he feels a hand touch his wrist. 

“Abed?”

Abed turns slowly to look at Troy as he stands up from his desk, pulling the bag carefully onto his shoulder. “Hi, Troy.”

He’s shot up a few inches since he last took a good look at him. He’s not counting the night at the hospital, it was all too much of a blur. He’s stockier, stronger, his jaw more set and his eyes less frantic as they stay carefully on Abed. But most of all, he looks less afraid than he used to. That’s the part that scares him. Because that means he isn’t afraid of what happens anymore. 

Part of him wants to pull Troy into a tight hug and hold him for an endless amount of time. Part of him wants to disappear on the spot and avoid talking to him any further, afraid that talking to him will make it all feel very _real_. Part of him wants to ask why Troy’s hand is still gently holding his wrist.

“Are you done with class for the day? Can we take a walk?” Troy asks, looking down at his hand and letting go of Abed’s wrist. Abed turns it to take a look at his watch. 2:31PM. He nods at Troy who gives him a smile. “Cool. I know a good burger place a couple blocks away. You might know it.” he grins, and he turns to walk out the door, Abed falling into step behind him.

Their walk to the diner they used to go to is mostly silent, just occasional apologies for bumping into one another, Troy’s hands shoved deep into his pockets, Abed’s firmly grasping the strap of his bag. Troy takes a couple of quick steps to the front door and holds it open for Abed, giving him a shy smile as they walk inside. 

After they order their food and sit in their old booth, Troy clears his throat. Abed looks up at him, holding a fry in one hand. 

“Abed, I just need to say that-” Troy brings his hand up to his mouth, rubbing his fingers back and forth like he doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say. “That I wanted to thank you, again, for that night.” Troy sighs, and he drags his hand to the back of his neck, scratching it slightly. 

“Yeah. Of course.” Abed says carefully, putting the fry in his mouth. He chews and swallows it quickly, looking at Troy to see if he’s going to say what he _really_ wants to say. It may have been a couple of years, but Troy still has all the same tells he used to have. He can feel the heel of his shoe hitting the leg of the table rhythmically as he swings it back and forth, and his fingers move rapidly on his neck and the edge of his tray. “Is that...all you wanted to say?” 

Troy purses his lips and looks out the window distractedly before finally looking at Abed again. “Yeah, yeah. How’s your food?” he asks, picking up one of his own fries and eating it. Abed nods and looks up at Troy, and he thinks if he tries hard enough he can be thrown backwards in time three years. 

Sure, he’s got a little bit more of a shadow on his face, he can tell when Troy reaches to rub his hand across it. His hair is a little longer than he used to keep it, his shoulders a bit broader. But he’s wearing that letterman jacket that somehow is still too big for him, and Abed cocks his head to the side. 

“What?” Troy asks, noticing Abed looking.

“I thought you said you hated that jacket.” Abed says, shaking his head and looking down at his food, picking up his burger to take another bite. 

“Oh, I, uh. Was in a rush this morning. Was just the first jacket I could find.” Troy says. 

“Mhm.” Abed mumbles, and he immediately wants to smack his head into the table. _Brain to mouth filter temporarily broken, I guess._

“What’s the _mhm_ for?” Troy asks teasingly.

Abed looks up at him, expecting Troy to have a look of disappointment on his face, or confusion, but instead he’s giving Abed that same smirk he used to give him when he would be especially deadpan to get his point across. He grins back at Troy. “Nothing, slip of the mind. Looks like it still doesn’t fit.” he gestures, biting into his burger again. 

“Eh, it fits good enough.” Troy shrugs, leaning back against the booth, smiling as he watches Abed eat, and _finally_ he relaxes. Abed watches his shoulders fall slightly as he picks up a fry and scoops it into Abed’s ketchup pile in the corner of his tray, and suddenly conversation comes easy. Like it used to.

—

The walk back towards campus is less awkward than the walk leaving it, and Troy smiles when he’s able to make Abed laugh quietly as they recount some of their old adventures and escapades around town. He reminds Abed of the time that squirrel stole his peanut butter sandwich right out of his backpack and he almost chased it up a tree, and Abed reminds him of the time they both tried to go ice skating on the lake and they ended up falling through the thin ice into the shallow water and they went home and bundled up in sweatpants and warm socks. 

Troy walks him all the way back to the dorms, and as they come to a stop in front of Abed’s room, Troy feels small again.

Because it’s the end of the night, and he still doesn’t want to go home. 

“This was really fun.” Abed says quietly, smiling at Troy. Troy looks up at him and forces a grin despite the sinking pit in his stomach.

“Yeah. I really needed this.” He can’t hold eye contact with Abed anymore, so he stares at his shoes instead, digging his toe into the floor repeatedly. “Thanks for going with-”

It all feels so familiar.

The way Abed’s hands take the sides of his face, the way Troy puts one hand in Abed’s hair and the other on his waist. What’s different now, though, is the way Troy backs Abed up against his door, forcing his knee between his legs. The way he bites on Abed’s lower lip and moans into his mouth as Abed’s tongue swipes across his own. 

He reaches behind Abed to push the door open, thankful it’s unlocked so he looks a bit more suave in the moment, and drops his bag off his shoulder as he kicks the door shut behind him with his foot. He’s vaguely aware of the way Abed’s saying his name breathily as he moves down Abed’s neck, biting and licking and teasing the whole time, and Abed’s fingertips sliding under his shirt send an electric shock through his entire body.

“Is this okay?” Troy whispers against Abed’s jaw, putting a gentle kiss there, giving himself a moment to catch his breath, but not long enough to take his head out of the happy haze it’s in.

“Don’t stop.” Abed breathes out heavily as he turns his head to capture Troy’s lips in another kiss, pushing his letterman jacket off of his shoulders and fully running his hands under his shirt. Troy stops only for a second to pull the shirt quickly over his head, and shakes his head as Abed tries to speak, instead choosing to ignore that part for now and focus on what’s in front of him.

For two years Troy thought about what _this_ would be like, if he ever saw Abed again. If he would still taste like the original flavor of Chapstick, the one with the black wrapper he used to buy at the gas station because he kept losing them. If he’d still be as toned as he was even when they were in high school, or more or less so. If he’d still treat Troy like he was delicate, as if he’d fall apart in his hands. 

Now he doesn’t have to wonder. Because he watched him put the Chapstick on when they were walking home. He takes his old red zip-up jacket off of Abed and pulls his shirt off of him, and he runs his fingers over his smooth and defined abdomen. And he’s matching Troy with the same amount of desperation and longing and heat, gripping his biceps and digging his nails into them and it’s driving Troy up the wall, in a good way.

Troy drags his fingers down Abed’s side until they hook in his belt loops, pulling them even closer together, and the small gasp of breath Abed lets out as Troy picks his legs up and wraps them around his waist without warning puts a smirk on his face as he carries Abed to the bed. He puts Abed on his back and hovers over him, taking a minute to just look down at him. 

“Troy?” Abed whispers, reaching an arm up to run over Troy’s chest, and he looks almost sad. 

That’s probably because Troy’s tearing up a little as he looks down at Abed below him and becomes so achingly, consciously aware that everything he has ever wanted and everything he is ever going to need is in the palm of his hands right now, and he doesn’t want this moment to end. He doesn’t want the bubble to pop, the dome to shatter, the cloud around them to dissipate, because this moment is _perfect_ , and _Abed_ is perfect, and for a brief minute in time his miserable life _feels perfect_.

“I love you.” Troy says back, voice watery and quiet, and normally he’d take it back. If this was any other moment with Abed, he’d say he didn’t mean it, that it slipped out, an accident. But he doesn’t, because it’s not. He means it with everything in his chest, and every fiber of his being. “I am so fucking in love with you.” 

Abed’s hand stops moving and comes to rest right over his heart. He doesn’t know if that’s intentional or not. He’s sure Abed can feel his heart pounding under his fingertips right now. It’s probably beating even faster now because Troy’s holding his breath, as if that will make the outcome of Abed’s answer any easier.

“I love you, too.” he says, voice so quiet Troy can barely hear him. 

Everything after that is a blur. Troy barely processes the way Abed undoes his belt frantically and pushes Troy’s pants off of him, or the way he sucks a hickey into Abed’s collarbone as he whines Troy’s name while he works his underwear off. All he hears is his own voice going _I love you, I love you, I’m so in love with you, I love you so much, Abed_ over and over again because it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. 

“Troy-” Abed breathes out, pushing a hand gently against Troy’s chest when he slides into him, slowly and carefully after taking the time to stretch him open. He freezes.

“I can stop.” Troy says.

“No, no, no, don’t stop, I just-” Abed lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m realizing it’s the wrong time for me to say that you’re surprisingly good at this.”

“I hope that’s a compliment.” Troy lets out a deep laugh, kissing Abed all over his face and then taking his bottom lip in his teeth as he pushes all the way in, making Abed moan breathily and squeeze Troy’s arms. “You’re okay?” he whispers as he moves to kiss Abed’s neck, revelling in the way he scratches at Troy’s back.

“I’m _so fucking okay_ , Troy.” Abed moans, wrapping his legs around Troy’s waist and pulling him closer.

Troy reaches for one of Abed’s hands from his back and puts it over his head, lacing their fingers together. The other hand barely traces down Abed’s side as it stops on his waist, and he gently puts pressure there as he starts moving in and out, and any plans he had of taking this slow and steady are out the window when Abed says his name with such urgency and neediness he can’t be patient anymore. 

This feels better than anything Troy’s ever felt before. The stinging on his back from Abed’s nails isn’t painful but rewarding, and the way he takes Troy’s hand to wrap it around himself has his head spinning, and the way he says _Troy_ …

He doesn’t have a chance to warn Abed that he’s finishing before he is, and he watches Abed arch his back up as he finishes into Troy’s hand, splatters falling across his stomach and chest. They’re both breathing heavily, Abed’s eyes closed as his arms go limp and his legs drop down from Troy’s hips. Troy pulls out of him gently and looks around quickly for something to wipe Abed up with, reaching out and snatching a box of tissues from the back corner of Abed’s nightstand. 

He lifts Abed’s legs carefully and wipes away all the excess, kissing his thighs gently as he does so before tossing the tissue in the trash. He goes to reach for another but stops as he watches Abed drag his fingers across himself and sucking it off, making a small _pop_ with his mouth when he finishes. He opens his eyes to Troy staring at him, and then he bursts into a fit of giggles.

“I wish you could see your own face right now.” he gets out in between laughs, and Troy feels the edge of his mouth curl up despite his jaw being open, and he just lets out a short laugh as he shakes his head.

“That might have been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Troy says, still bemused by the sight in front of him. 

Abed drops his head back down onto the bed, his laughs quieter now. “Sorry I didn’t cut my nails before.” he says, covering his face with his hands. 

Troy smiles as he leans down and grabs Abed’s wrists, pulling them away so he can kiss Abed’s nose. “You literally have no reason to apologize to me right now. That was…” Troy shakes his head again, a huge smile on his face as he struggles to find the right word.

“Perfect?” Abed says jokingly, but his face changes as he looks at Troy to the most sincere look Troy’s ever seen.

“Yeah. Perfect.” he whispers before leaning down to kiss him, long and sweet and slow. 

“Stay with me tonight.” Abed whispers against his lips.

“Gladly.” Troy whispers back.

—

Troy sits in a pair of Abed’s boxers, playing with Abed’s hair as he looks down at him. He’s resting his chin on top of his arms on Troy’s stomach, every now and again dragging a finger over the slight discoloration littering Troy’s abdomen.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he whispers. 

Troy doesn’t stop running his fingers through Abed’s hair as he thinks of an answer. He’s focusing on how soft it is between his fingers, and how he can feel Abed’s gentle breath hit his chest, and he sighs softly.

“Not tonight.” he whispers back.

“Ever?”

A pause. “Sometime.”

“You promise?” Abed looks up at him, doe eyes glistening. Troy stops his hand as he pushes Abed’s hair off of his forehead. 

“Promise.” he says. “Just not tonight.”

“Okay.” Abed says, dropping his chin back onto his hands. Troy keeps running his fingers through his hair. 

Before long he can hear Abed’s breaths lengthen and small snores escape him every couple of minutes. 

Normally this is where Troy leaves. This is where he slides carefully out from underneath someone’s arm and gets half dressed before crawling out the window, not saying goodbye. Normally he’d be halfway home by now. 

But home is right here. He doesn’t have to run anymore.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise troy's not sad the entire time even though it seems that way  
> be happy, be safe, be well  
> much love to you all

“Where are you going?” Abed whispers groggily, Troy cursing under his breath for knocking into Abed’s nightstand and not being careful enough when he got out of bed.

“I’ve gotta run home and grab a change of clothes before my class.” Troy whispers, leaning down to kiss Abed’s forehead. 

Abed barely cracks his eyes open as he looks at the clock. “Troy, it’s three in the morning. Come back to bed.” 

“But-” 

“I’ve got about five of your sweatshirts sitting in a box by the closet I haven’t unpacked yet. And plenty of t-shirts that will fit you. Come on, Troy.” Abed yawns, opening up the blankets and closing his eyes again. “It’s just me. You don’t have to sneak out.” 

Troy looks at Abed’s tousled hair and sleepy face and can’t help but feel his heart melt. He sighs as he crawls back into the bed, Abed firmly putting his body on top of Troy’s, his arms wrapping securely around him. “Not going anywhere.” Abed mumbles against his chest, taking deep breaths.

“Okay, not going anywhere.” Troy sighs, leaning down quickly to kiss the top of Abed’s head before falling back asleep. 

—

Troy’s alarm goes off around 7:30, stirring both him and Abed out of their sleep.

“An 8 a.m.? Really?” Abed grumbles, burying his head in Troy’s neck. 

“Was the only time I could take it.” Troy mumbles, his words running together as he runs his hands over his face. “Where are my clothes you stole at?” he jokes, poking Abed’s shoulder. Abed points across the room at a small box in the corner, and Troy gives a fake _oof_ as he slides Abed off of him, kissing his cheek as he gets out of bed. 

Abed rolls onto his side and opens his eyes, watching Troy stretch, the muscles in his back flexing as he brings his arms up over his head, tilting side to side and letting out a sigh. “You look good.” he says simply. 

Troy turns his head to give Abed a wink before pulling his jeans on, and walks to the other side of the room, opening the box and pulling out a purple sweater. He pulls it over his head, adjusting it on his arms and straightening it out across his chest. “Little small now.” he says softly, pulling on it as if he’s trying to stretch it out.

“Defining.” Abed breathes out, looking at Troy with glossy eyes. Troy looks at him and lets out a small chuckle before noticing Abed’s hand slide down his torso under the blanket.

“Don’t tempt me.” Troy breathes out, watching Abed drop his head back onto the pillow. 

“Hm.” Abed just hums, eyes fluttering shut. Troy can see his hand move slowly under the blanket, and he debates with himself quickly in his head. He can skip class on the second day of school, make up some bullshit excuse about how he got confused with his schedule or thought he didn’t have it today, or...he can go to class. 

Troy watches Abed for another second before he walks over slowly, leaning down to catch his lips in surprise. Abed’s free hand comes up to hold Troy’s arm, pulling him in deeper. “You’re gonna cause trouble for me, huh?” Troy breathes against his lips, putting himself over Abed’s body. 

“Maybe.” Abed’s breath stutters out. “I have a lot of time to make up for.” 

“I really have to go to class.” Troy laughs quietly as Abed slides a hand under his sweater.

“Sure you do.” Abed’s fingers drag lightly down his torso, tickling Troy gently.

“It’s the second day of classes.” Troy says, kissing Abed’s neck.

“S’Fine.” Abed breathes, craning his neck back to give Troy better access.

“Troublemaker, you are.” Troy says as he pulls away, trying not to give into the sad look on Abed’s face. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“So not fair.” Abed sighs, hand moving lazily now.

“Believe me, I know.” Troy says, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a toothpaste caplet and a small toothbrush. He grabs his water bottle from a side pocket in his backpack and wets the toothbrush, popping the caplet into his mouth and brushing his teeth. 

“What is that?” Abed asks.

“Toothpaste bites.” Troy says through the brush. “Wasn’t sleeping at home a lot of the time, but I still had to brush my teeth.” Troy grabs his water bottle again and pours some into his mouth, swigging it around and swallowing it. “Life saver.”

“You weren’t sleeping at home that often? Where were you going?” Abed asks, his face laced with concern.

Troy just shrugs. “I’ll tell you later.” He leans in and kisses Abed quickly once more, pulling his backpack onto his right shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much.” he says, leaving Abed in bed. 

—

Abed thinks a lot about what else he doesn’t know about Troy. He doesn’t want to pry, because he knows that Troy won’t talk about anything unless he wants to. He remembers that first night he walked Troy home and saw what they saw through the window. He never would have known if he hadn’t walked him home. Troy never would have let on that those things were happening.

Troy’s a master of masking his feelings. He always has been. Abed is the only person who’s ever gotten close enough to see a glimpse of what the real Troy was like, when he would let everything out in the quiet of the night. 

So it’s not surprising that there’s more to him than Abed knows about. It has been two years, after all.

When Troy comes back around 9:30, Abed’s sitting on the edge of his bed, fist to his mouth, deep in thought. He hears Troy set his bag down by the door, and he recognizes that he pulls the chair from Abed’s desk up in front of him, careful not to touch him. He doesn’t say anything, just leans his elbows onto his knees and waits patiently for Abed to speak again. 

It’s not fair that Troy stills knows everything about Abed and Abed feels like he barely knows him. 

“I need to know.” Abed says quietly. “Everything. Because if I let myself think about it for too long I’m going to make myself upset. So I’d rather just know.”

Troy clears his throat and shifts in his seat, leaning back and bringing his hands behind his head. “Yeah, okay.”

“I know you don’t like to talk about it, but…” Abed sniffs, suddenly overcome with emotion. He doesn’t like that. “I can’t _not_ know. It’s not fair you went through all that you went through and you have to hold it in all by yourself.”

He looks up, expecting Troy to show some kind of emotion. Sadness or anger or _something_. But he’s not. He’s stonefaced, not looking at Abed but at the wall behind him. His face is set and his jaw is clenched, and his entire body is still. 

—

_Troy bats the book away that comes flying at his head._

_“Do you think this is a fucking game, Troy?” his father yells, hurling a small ceramic dish at him. Troy catches it in his hands and drops it softly to the carpeted floor, careful not to let it break. “I’m not playing with you, boy. I’m tired of you disrespecting me in my own house.”_

_The only thing Troy appreciated inheriting from his father was his hand-eye coordination. He’d be in a lot worse shape if he didn’t have it._

_“Say_ something _, Troy!”_

_“I’ve got_ nothing _to say.” Troy spits back, and he knows that’s the wrong move as his dad strides across the floor to him, and Troy finds his back against a wall._

_“I’m warning you. I should have kicked you out of this house the second you turned eighteen.” his dad growls in his face._

_“Yeah. Maybe you should have. Too bad the law says you have to take care of your own kid.” Troy says back, voice low. He squeezes his eyes shut as his dad shoves him, his head knocking against the wall._

_“Bedroom. Now.” his dad points up the stairs, and Troy stares at him an extra second longer than he should before turning to go up the stairs. He ignores the way his stomach is growling, and slams the door behind him. He locks it quickly, knowing his dad will be coming close behind him as he pulls a duffel bag out from underneath his bed. He slings his backpack onto his shoulders, throwing the window open and crawling out, scrambling down the tree beside his house and bursting into a sprint down the road, crossing into the thick of the trees at the end of the street. He pulls his way up the tree, using the last of his energy to get to a branch up high, where he can see the street but the street can’t see him._

_He watches his dad’s car drive back and forth, and waits for an hour with bated breath after he sees his dad’s car the last time before creeping down the tree carefully._

_He walks off the side of the road for a while, trying to think of how he’s going to get by the next couple of days before his next paycheck comes through. His mom’s moved away now, to a new city an hour away, so he can’t go to her. Any of his friends parents would call his father and tell him where he was, so couldn’t do that either._

_He wants to call Abed. Wants so badly to curl up in his bed with him and feel safe for the first time in two years. He knows that’s not an option, so he walks to the local storage facility. He walks through the quiet rows until he comes to a small container at the end of the row. He pulls his keys out of his pocket and undoes the lock, sliding the door up enough to put himself inside, and slams the door shut behind him._

_He pulls a flashlight out of his duffel bag and turns it on, setting it up in the corner to illuminate the room._

_There’s a dirty futon pushed against the back of the container, a sleeping bag laid on top. He bought the futon from an auction on an abandoned container for $20. He should have had to pay more, but the guy running the place must have felt bad for him, since he gave Troy a sad look when he handed him the bill and told him that was all he had left after paying the deposit for a unit. There’s a box next to the couch slowly filling with clothes, small bottles of water resting beside it, as well as some dry snacks. Troy sighs as he collapses on the futon, checking his phone for the time._

_1:13AM_

_He sets the solar alarm clock he found for 6 in the morning, knowing it will take twenty minutes for him to walk to school and use the shower in the locker room before he has to go to class._

_He closes his eyes and tries to calm his breathing, but he can’t help but cry._

_He knows his dad won’t give a shit if he never comes home. He won’t call the police and have them looking for him. He knows that because he was gone for two weeks once and all he was met with when he came home was a lot of yelling and screaming about how ungrateful he was._

_18 and essentially homeless._

_His chest hurts from crying so much._

—

“Troy?” Abed asks quietly, watching him cry silently. His face hasn’t changed, he’s still staring at the wall. 

“I want to tell you.” his voice comes out strangled. He’s trying to fight the tears coming to his eyes. “It’s just...hard. It might take me a while.” 

And it does take him a while. He tells him about his mom moving away, and his dad’s temper getting worse. He tells him about sleeping out by the lake before he scraped together enough from work to have a bit of shelter. Tells him about how he was barely keeping his grades up and how he couldn’t let on to any of his teachers or friends that he was practically homeless. There’s a lot of quiet breaks in between the stories, Abed tearing up as Troy cries silently. 

“I didn’t go home a lot. Only when I had to. I had to last week. To get the last of my things before leaving for good. I thought he was gone for work, but turns out he’d taken a personal day.” Troy absentmindedly drags a hand across his chest. His face barely changes as he hits the bruise in the middle of his chest. “He didn’t know where I’d been staying, but he noticed stuff was going missing. My clothes, shoes. Took a pillow and my comforter from my bed. I’m really good at packing now.” he lets out a dry chuckle. “Sorry. Not funny.” he sighs. “He really laid into me. When he stopped he told me to take the rest of my shit and not come back. Told him I didn’t plan on it. The letter jacket was the last thing I had clean.” Troy says shamefully. “Haven’t had enough change to go to the laundromat lately.”

Abed’s crying more than he has in his entire life by now. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” he asks tearfully. Troy shrugs, eyes blank. 

“Didn’t want to bother you. Didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

“I’m so sorry.” Abed chokes out quietly. 

“It’s not your fault.” Troy responds. “You didn’t know. No one did.” 

“Can I give you a hug?” Abed asks, and Troy _finally_ looks at him. He stands up and sits down beside Abed, and he feels more like he’s the one giving Abed a hug than the other way around. He doesn’t care though.

He closes his eyes and for the first time in a long time he knows he’s going to be just fine.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life has been kicking my ass lately but i finally found enough motivation and concentration to give you guys a new chapter.  
> hope you all are doing okay.  
> be happy, be safe, be well.  
> so much love to you all

After learning that Troy had spent practically all of his summer, aside from the weeks he was in a cast, in a storage unit, Abed felt like he had to do _something_. Anything.

He’s convinced Troy now to sleep with him in his dorm, and has managed to get most of his clothes into one box in the corner of his room. He does Troy’s laundry for him while he’s in class and silently hands him breakfast every morning. He tries not to feel his chest tighten up when he watches Troy inhale the food, like he hasn’t been eating properly for a long time. He definitely tries not to think about the fact that he probably _hasn’t_. 

He scours every available outlet he can for an apartment. Newspapers, library computer, ads in the grocery store. 

It takes about eight months before he finally finds one he can afford with the money he’s saved up. He had to sell some of his duplicate merchandise or movies he had multiple copies of, and a limited edition comic book got sold that he had a hard time letting go of. But he had enough now for a security deposit and a month’s rent, and then they could figure out what to do after that. Troy was still working at the gym part time from all those years ago, and Abed could always go back to the video rental store. 

He was going to make it work. Even if he had to sell everything he owned for it to work.

When Troy comes back from a lab that night, he falls down onto the couch and drops his head in Abed’s lap, rolling onto his side to put a kiss to Abed’s stomach.

“Tired.” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around Abed lazily. Abed puts a hand in his hair, scratching gently. 

“I have some news.” Abed says. He feels Troy try to sit up but just gently pushes his shoulder back down so he’s laying in his lap again. “You don’t have to get up, it’s okay. But I found us an apartment.”

Troy’s eyes snap open. “What?” He tries to sit up but Abed just puts his hands on his chest and keeps him laying down. “Abed, I- We-”

“I’ve been saving a lot up the last few months and I sold a couple of things. It’s enough for a security deposit and the first month of rent. We can do this.” Abed says, looking down at Troy. “We can move in next week. If you want.”

“Abed, how are we going to do this? All I have to my name right now is $80 and a dirty futon.”

“The futon will be useful until we get a real couch. I already sold this one to Pavel for $60. And I’ve been talking to a couple people from Spanish class. You know Jeff? The guy that’s always hitting on Britta?”

“Yeah?”

“Well we’re also in a pottery class together. And he mentioned that he wanted a new bed. And I told him if he wanted to get rid of his old one I could take it off his hands. So I gave him $80 for it and he said we could get it when we move in.”

Troy rolls back onto his side and tucks his face into Abed’s hip, putting his arms back around Abed’s waist. “I don’t deserve you.” he says into his body.

“You deserve everything, Troy. Including this. _Especially_ this.”

Troy turns back onto his back and forces himself up to a seated position, facing Abed. “You really think we can do this?”

“Of course we can. It’s you and me now.” Abed says gently, taking Troy’s hand in his. He leans in and kisses him softly, relaxing as he feels Troy cup his face in his hands. 

“You’re too good for me.” he mumbles against Abed’s lips.

“Not true.” Abed mumbles back, kissing Troy lazily. When they pull away, Troy puts his head back in Abed’s lap and hums contentedly at the way Abed scratches his head. Before long he’s dozing quietly, his slack arm falling over the edge of the couch.

Abed keeps scratching his scalp lightly, not wanting to disturb him by moving too much. He can feel his leg falling asleep and he resists the urge to twist it around, concentrating instead on Troy’s tiny snores and the way he’s curling further into his lap. 

Eventually Abed’s own head falls backwards and they’re both asleep, the television playing softly in the background. 

—

“Abed.” Troy whispers, and Abed faintly feels fingers run through his hair. “Abed, c’mere.” 

Abed barely cracks an eye open to see Troy standing up in front of him, and he closes his eyes again. “Hm?”

“Let’s get you in bed, okay? Here.” Troy gently slides his hands under Abed’s thighs, and Abed reflexively wraps his arms around Troy’s neck as he lifts him and carries him to the bunk bed. He sets Abed down gently but holds his hands so he can’t fall onto his back. “Arms up.” Troy whispers, and Abed holds his arms up over his head as Troy gently pulls his shirt off of him. “Now you can lay down. Just put your hips up for me.” Abed flops onto his back, too tired to try and be careful, and helps Troy get his pants off. He sighs as he scoots back to his side of the bed and pulls the covers around him. 

He opens one eye to watch Troy get undressed, the only light being the faint glow from the TV. He pulls his shirt up over his head, the muscles in his sides moving slowly as he straightens his arms out to pull the sleeves down them. He carefully undoes his belt and button on his jeans and slides them down his legs, stepping out of them one at a time. He looks over and sees Abed watching and smiles. 

“Can I hold you?” Troy asks gently, leaning down to kiss Abed softly as he gets into the bed. Abed nods and closes his eyes again as he rolls over, his back pressed tightly to Troy’s chest. He tangles their legs together as Troy puts a secure arm around his waist, his forehead resting on his shoulder blade. “I love you.” he whispers. 

“I love you, too.” Abed whispers back, lacing his fingers with Troy’s. 

There’s lots of tiny kisses peppering his shoulder and down his arm, barely there like kisses from a butterfly. His arm acts like an anchor, holding Abed down on Earth instead of floating up into the clouds. When Abed turns in Troy’s arms to face him he gives a small grin. Troy doesn’t stop kissing, just leans in and kisses his cheek and his collarbone and his neck, still just as gentle before. 

“What’s all this for?” he asks quietly. 

“I just love you so much.” Troy whispers back, breath warm against his neck. He pulls Abed in even closer, their chests touching, and kisses his lips gently. “I don’t know what I would do without you anymore. I don’t want to know.” 

“You’re always going to have me.” Abed whispers, following Troy’s lips even as he pulls back slightly. “Not goin’ anywhere.” he mumbles against Troy, reconnecting them in a kiss. 

Troy leans in more to Abed’s kiss, and the tenderness from before is replaced with something almost needy in his kisses, like if he comes up for air too long it’ll all disappear. His fingers dance over Abed’s waist, and Abed pulls him over by shoulder so he’s square under Troy, and lets out a breathy gasp at the way Troy sucks on his neck. 

Abed runs his hands all over Troy’s torso, going back to cup his face every so often, tangle his fingers in his hair. Troy loves physical touch, and even though it’s not Abed’s forte, he loves the way he can make Troy feel by not doing much at all. He drags a hand up Troy’s arm and holds the side of his face when Troy comes back up to his lips, and he sighs into his mouth before reaching up and holding Abed’s hand in his own. 

“I know you’re tired. We don’t have to.” Troy says, his breathing slightly labored as he pulls back and looks down at Abed. Abed’s watching his fingers trace over Troy’s chest, no longer riddled with bruises and cuts. He looks whole again. 

Abed tilts his head back so he can look at Troy’s face, and he chuckles quietly at the way Troy’s fighting to keep his eyes open. “I think you’re the one that’s a little tired. It’s okay to be tired. I’m not expecting anything from you.” Abed brings both his hands up to hold Troy’s face, and caresses his cheek with his thumb. “How about we see how we’re feeling in the morning, okay?” Troy nods in his hands, and Abed pulls him in for one more kiss. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Abed rests their foreheads together. 

“But you’re tired too, right?” Troy mumbles as he lowers himself carefully on top of Abed, wrapping his arms securely around him. 

“Yeah. We’re both tired.” Abed says, rubbing Troy’s back. 

He’s snoring before Abed has a chance to tell him he loves him. 

He says it to him anyways.

—

Troy grunts as he sets down his end of the couch that Jeff had graciously picked up for them with one of his buddies trucks and reaches up to wipe the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. The end of May was nearing and the temperatures were warming up, and Troy was making it his next mission to fix the air conditioning unit that was rattling in the corner. 

Abed sets down his end of the couch and brings the bottom hem of his tank top up to wipe his face. Troy had almost dropped a box of Abed’s valuable memorabilia the first time he had done that. The sweat glistening on his abs combined with his legs being shown off from his running shorts was a sight for Troy to behold, and he definitely hadn’t tripped over the curb as he watched Abed wipe his brow. 

Troy pulls his shirt up over his head and walks over to the A.C. unit, grabbing his small tool kit on the way over. 

“I almost don’t want you to fix it.” Abed says slyly, coming up to stand beside Troy as he squats down and starts to inspect it. “The way you look _almost_ beats having working air conditioning in the summer.”

Troy looks up with a smirk and shakes his head. “Get a look while you can.” Troy jokes. “This thing will be good as new in five minutes and this place will be an ice box.”

“You were always weirdly good at fixing stuff like this.” Abed says, leaning against the wall and watching Troy work. 

Troy sticks his tongue out and torques something inside the unit, and gives a small smile as the machine whirs and runs smoothly, cool air blasting out and hitting him in the face. “Here.” Troy pulls Abed down by his hand and positions him in front of the A.C., grinning at the way Abed’s eyes fall shut and he lets out a sigh at the cool air. 

“Wow.” Abed breathes, a smile lighting up his face. “Nice.” 

“Right?” Troy chuckles, rising to his feet and mussing Abed’s hair as he braces himself against the unit. He turns around and looks at their things, his hand still resting in Abed’s sweaty hair. 

All of their belongings in one place. 

A year ago he was sneaking his things into a storage unit on the other side of town.

He feels Abed stand up and wrap an arm around his waist, kissing Troy’s temple. 

“What now?” Abed asks, resting his cheek on Troy’s head. 

“We could set up the living room, at least part of the way. And then set up the bedroom, get the sheets on the bed and all that. There’s not too much left to do.” Troy says thoughtfully, leaning into Abed’s side. 

“And then we can shower?” Abed asks, giving Troy’s side a cheeky squeeze under his shirt.

“Yeah.” Troy laughs, getting on his tiptoes to peck Abed quickly before working on pushing the couch up against the wall, letting Abed set up his DVDs in the bookcase behind their small television. They work in comfortable silence, every now and again Troy humming to himself whatever song was stuck in his head. By the time the sun is setting, the place finally looks like a real home, and they plop down on the futon together, Troy’s arm around Abed’s neck. 

“Looks good, huh?” he says to Abed, locking their fingers together when Abed reaches his hand up.

“Yeah.” Abed agrees, tilting his head to the side to kiss Troy’s knuckles. They sit for another minute before Abed stands up, letting out a small _oof_ as he does so. “Alright, shower time.” he says, holding his hands out to help Troy stand up.

“Shower time.” Troy grins, letting Abed pull him to his feet and lead him into the bathroom, giggling quietly as they close the door behind them.

—

They lay next to each other in their new bed, which Jeff swore up and down he cleaned thoroughly before giving it to them. Troy’s looking at Abed’s face, his eyes fluttering gently like he’s dreaming. He barely leans in and presses a light kiss to his forehead before closing his own eyes, in the comfort of a home that is theirs and theirs alone.

A beginning to a new, and hopefully better, life.

**Author's Note:**

> find me over on tumblr at the same name (damntrobed.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
